


our story's written in the stars

by botanicly



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Angst, Astronomy porn, Bastardized version of Chinese folklore, Boys In Love, M/M, Mention of Snafu's penis (courtesy of him) but no sexual content, Pining, Some fluff but mostly just angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 04:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19124659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/botanicly/pseuds/botanicly
Summary: “You know,” Eugene says, breaking the silence, “we used to find our way around usin’ the stars. Celestial navigation, it’s called. The Minoans, Christopher Columbus, slaves on the Underground Railroad — all guided home by these extraterrestrial masses.”---On a beach in Okinawa, Sledge and Snafu meet under a starry night sky.





	our story's written in the stars

**Author's Note:**

> I bought a constellation book and got this idea of Sledge and Snafu being star-crossed lovers, and it literally took a hold of me and wouldn't let me sleep until I finished writing it. So, here I am, at 4:22 AM, posting my drabble. Un-betaed, any errors are mine, pls let me know in the comments if you find one. Now off to bed, yay!

Somewhere in between the Japanese surrendering and the boys returning stateside, Snafu seeks out Eugene under the night sky. He’s leaned up against a boulder, bare feet dug into soft white sand, pale skin glowing in the light of a full moon. The ocean breeze sweeps under his fringe, lifting auburn locks of hair like a marionette. Snafu pauses before approaching, hiding in the shadow of a banyan tree. For an indulgent second, he allows himself to admire the softness in the man before him. Finally, they can relax. 

“Stop creepin’ around and come join me, Snaf,” Eugene says, eyes fixed on the stars above.

Snafu sucks at his teeth, faintly chagrined at having been caught. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” he drawls, shuffling forward and settling down in the sand next to Eugene. 

In this position, their knees almost touch. Snafu can feel the heat radiating from the man beside him, the proximity between them teasingly enticing in the balmy air. His fingers itch to close the distance, to pull Eugene close by the back of his neck until their foreheads, their noses, their lips meet in a crushing embrace. Instead, he listens to the sound of waves lapping gently onto the shore, willing the noise to dampen the beating in his chest. 

“You know,” Eugene says, breaking the silence, “we used to find our way around usin’ the stars. Celestial navigation, it’s called. The Minoans, Christopher Columbus, slaves on the Underground Railroad — all guided home by these extraterrestrial masses.” 

Snafu hums in assent, familiar with the subject. His ancestors too, having traversed the bayou with only the constellations as their map. 

A finger pointing west enters his line of sight. 

“See them four stars above the horizon? They intersect in an X. Deneb. Albireo. Delta. Gienah. The Northern Cross, we call it.”

Snafu traces the stars, envisioning the luminous points connected by dotted lines. 

“Look southeast of it,” Eugene continues, “to the bright star just above the horizon. That’s Vega. Now, cross the Milky Way. You’ll see its counterpart, Altair, shinin’ just a little less bright. To us, they’re just stars.”

Following along with the commentary, Snafu’s curiosity piques as to the impetus for the narrative.

“But the Chinese got a different interpretation. The way they see it, the Northern Cross is a bridge — formed by a great flock of magpies — that rests over a river of stars. Legend has it that there was a princess, and her old man was the God of the Sky. One day this princess saw a shepherd, and despite her upbringing, something attracted her to this destitute fella. She fell madly in love, neglected all her duties, and stopped listenin’ to her daddy.” 

“Must’a had a damn good pecka’, that shepherd,” Snafu snorts. He earns a playful slap for his comment, though it doesn’t stop him from adding, “almost as good as mine.” 

Eugene rolls his eyes. “Don’t be crude,” he says, but it lacks any heat, and he returns to his story as a self-content smile appears on Snafu’s face. 

“As punishment, the God of the Sky placed them up there, the princess as Vega, the shepherd as Altair. And for all the days in the year except one, they’re separated by a river of stars, what we call the Milky Way. But on that one special day, the magpies come together to create a bridge, our Northern Cross, so the two lovebirds can reunite.” 

Snafu tenses as Eugene shifts closer, lining them up hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. Unable to find any words, he twiddles his fingers against his thigh, desperately wanting to grab the other man’s hand and intertwine it with his own.

“Sometimes—,” Eugene’s voice breaks. He breathes out shakily, counts down a few beats before trying again. This time, he’s almost inaudible over the crashing waves. 

“Sometimes, I wonder if this war is our Northern Cross.” 

It’s a declaration of love and a rejection of the possibility all at once. 

In silence, Snafu’s heart breaks asunder.


End file.
